


Iron

by paradoxmachine



Series: Cardinal Red [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternative Troll Genitalia, Biting, Bloodplay, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Choking, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Rough Sex, Self-cest, Sexual Violence, Xenophilia, sleep paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradoxmachine/pseuds/paradoxmachine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was reassuring, in its own way, to know that nobody could ever hate him as much as he hated himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron

**Author's Note:**

> As usual for me, non standard-fanon troll genitals. Definitely check the tags before reading if you're sensitive to potentially triggering content.  
> Included in my DaveKat drabble series because of the end, but not a necessary read for any continuity reasons.

Karkat thought, ‘move your leg.’ He thought nothing for a very long time, save for maybe some vague, wordless allusions. Undefined shapes swimming through a curtain of darkness, of neither objects nor people, but maybe sometimes they were either or both of those things. Maybe there were faces, or colors, or even some _ideas_ straining through his mind like sand through open fingers. And then he thought, ‘move your leg,’ and didn’t think to ask ‘why,’ because- it should _not_ have been some titanic fucking task. He thought, ‘move your leg,’ and his mind latched on to it, batted it around like a toy mouse, lazy, aimless, before finally sending the impulse to the limb in question. Kick a little, twitch your foot, flex your toes.

But he couldn’t do it.

‘What the fuck,’ came the sluggish reply to this realization. He could see his legs in his mind’s eye with crystal clear precision, down to the smallest, inconsequential details. Down to the grain in his toenails, and the hair between his toes. He could sense them there, could feel them there, every muscle, every vein, every millimeter of skin. ‘Move,’ Karkat thought. ‘ _Move_!!’ Karkat screamed at himself. He realized- with a creeping dread that started as a burning in his stomach and turned into something living, something cloying and barbed and scraping up out of his throat from the inside- that it wasn’t just his legs; that his fingers, his shoulders, his lips, his lungs had turned to lead, and he couldn’t-

Couldn’t breathe. Karkat thought, ‘Dave.’ Karkat thought, ‘Dave’s right there.’ Karkat thought, ‘Dave’s right there, and if only I could open my mouth, I could yell for him, I could call his name-‘ Through clenched jaws he tried to scream, but there was no sound. Nothing, not even a whimper. He thought, ‘He’ll touch my hand and I’ll be able to move again.’ He thought, ‘I’m going to suffocate.’ He thought, ‘I’m going to die trying to scream and I can’t even make a sound.’

There was something inside him. Something under his skin, a black, velvety liquid coursing through his veins and a pair of clawed hands sprouting from his chest and wrapped around his throat. He screamed again, and this time managed- or thought he managed- the slightest, tiniest rasp of breath. The last of his oxygen was slipping away, _wasted_ even though he _knew_ all he needed was the smallest whine and Dave would save him. He pitched forward with his entire body, willing himself to move with every ounce of his strength. Every muscle had gone tense and tight, painfully so, and maybe he was even quivering but it wasn’t enough.

He threw himself forward again, and rose. But no, this was even worse. He wasn’t really moving, he was tearing at his very essence, ripping it from his body. Eyes closed tight and nails digging into his palms, he was standing next to Dave’s bed with nothing but a faded trail of broken still images connecting him to where he lay. And _it_ , whatever _it_ was, was consuming him.

He opened his eyes.

 

Not in Dave’s bed. Not anywhere on the meteor, but oh, he knew this place. The land of pulse and haze smelled exactly like he remembered. Sharp and metallic and heavy in his nose and on his tongue and down his throat. He drew in breath like a man half drowned, gasping and panting and suffocating in the god-awful stench of his own blood.

“For fuck’s sake, stop.  You’re embarrassing yourself.”  
Karkat jumped and spun around. He had his sickle in hand and an arm up to shield himself, but almost immediately he dropped it he was shaking so hard.  
“Literally.”

Karkat Vantas was standing behind him looking, if anything, bored. He was leaning against a pillar of stone, arms crossed and a frown on his face. He was decked out in an elaborate get-up almost identical to the one Dave wore save the colors and the sigil. And his eyes were vacant, empty white. It wasn’t until that moment that Karkat realized he was dreaming. Stupid, of _course_ he was. Did he think he could hold off on sleep forever? Did he think he could get away with just pretending?

It just felt so nice to lay next to Dave, tight against his chest, without having to make excuses for himself. If he pretended to be asleep, he could listen to Dave’s slow breathing and bask in his warmth and his closeness for hours. No words. No expectations.  
But of course it couldn’t last, and one day he’d slip up, get too comfortable, and _this_ would happen.

“Wonderful,” Karkat said, and he was startled and ashamed at the way his voice cracked on the first syllable. He didn’t have the energy to deal with this- not right now, not in Dave’s bed. “Listen, can we just… Not do this? I’m really not feeling an argument right now.”  
Godkat pushed off from the rock with a sway, pacing toward him with his arms still folded. Karkat hated that he couldn’t tell where he was looking. It was making the hair on the back of his neck prickle stiffly.  
“There’s no way you believe that’ll happen,” Godkat tsked. “Am I your first Karkat? You’re not mine. Either way… I think we know where this meeting is headed.”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Karkat, but the sudden stirring in his lower abdomen said otherwise. Of course he’d thought about this happening before, and of course any other Karkat would have thought the same thing. Hadn’t he always suspected he was his own kismesis?

Karkat swallowed heavily. He crouched to retrieve his sickle and return it to his sylladex, and then let his arms fall limply to his sides.  
“Do you know what happens when you die?” Godkat said, striding closer. “Before all this, we believed that when you died, there was nothing. Your heart stopped beating and just like that you were gone. And you know what? We were kind of right. You die, and there’s _nothing_ , only it’s even worse than we imagined because then you wake up in one of these forsaken wastelands and there’s. Nothing! And yet you’re still here, no matter how many days and years and eternities pass, just you and your worthless, pointless fucking existence.” He paused for effect. “Not that that’s so different from your life.”

“Oh, great. Congratulations, that fucking sucks for you,” said Karkat. He took a step back as Godkat approached, and then another- but there wasn’t much further he could go before he’d tumble ass-backwards into an acrid pool of blood. “Sorry you’re so nookchafed and bitter. What, becoming god tier wasn’t good enough for you? What more do you fucking want?”

Godkat closed the space between them in an instant. His fist bundled in Karkat’s sweater and he jerked him off his feet, holding him suspended inches from the ground.  
“Don’t you get it?” Godkat shouted in his face. Saliva flew from his jagged fangs. “Becoming god tier is the reason I’m _here_. In every other timeline I encounter, we’re this pathetic piece of shit who couldn’t even ascend- and my timeline, and every other timeline like mine were doomed _because_ we ascended. Because it’s _literally not possible_ for us to succeed. Our fucking failure is _intrinsic to the game_!”

Karkat winced, but didn’t reach to wipe the spittle from his face. Of course he knew that. How could he not? It only made so much fucking sense for it to be that way. He gazed defiantly into Godkat’s hollow sockets, locking eyes with him and refusing to look away.  
“Doesn’t that make you just want to die all over again?” Karkat said coldly. “All that try-hard beastshit, but _I’m_ alive, and _you’re_ dead.”

Godkat threw him to the ground very suddenly with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs. Karkat gasped, choking in hard mouthfuls of air, but before he could catch his breath Godkat was on top him and crushing his mouth against his. Their teeth scraped together painfully, and their lips pinched and then caught and split open, rewarding them smeared mouthfuls of scarlet and a coppery sting. Godkat sucked the blood from his tongue like he was starved for it, like if only he got enough of it, he might take Karkat’s place and be the one to wake in his stead.

Karkat moaned into his kiss without restraint, because who was there to judge him for it? Godkat already knew his every depravity. Worse than that, he _shared_ them.  
“You think-“ He slid both hands up Godkat’s shirt and curled his nails sharply into his back. “-that you’re better than me?”  
Godkat sunk his teeth into Karkat’s neck, making him gasp and arch his back against the blackened stone. But there was no escape from Godkat’s weight, from his teeth and his tongue and his hands curling in his hair and tearing at his clothes.  
“Is that what you cling to to keep yourself sane out here? That same tired sham of a superiority complex? I wish I could say I’m surprised at the depths of our pathetic posturing.”  
“Of course I’m better than you,” Godkat said. “I climbed through every tier. I ascended. I achieved personal fulfillment!”  
Karkat smiled sadly, putting a hand on Godkat’s cheek. “And who did you leave behind to do it?”  
Godkat grabbed Karkat’s wrist and forced his hand away, pinning it above his head. He silenced Karkat with another rough kiss, but had no other retaliation.

Karkat wanted to feel ashamed at how familiar this felt. It was so _easy_ to slip back into this routine of self abuse, and so hard to hold back with Godkat’s legs tangled in his and his hips hitching roughly against his own. He wanted to feel guilty, or disgusted; what would Dave think, if he saw him now? He pulled the familiar cape over Godkat’s head with his free hand and cast it aside. The fact of the matter was that Dave didn’t have a say in it. Having both a matesprit and a kismesis wasn’t just natural for a troll, it was _required_ for survival.

So then why did this feel like a betrayal?

And… If it was, why didn’t that make him want to stop?

Godkat pulled his sweater up over his shoulders and then grasped him by the chin. Fingertips digging into his jaw, he kissed the blood from his lips, pulling at them with his teeth and nipping at his tongue. Already his mouth felt swollen and bruised.  
“Who is it in your timeline?” Godkat asked, as if he could read his mind. “What poor fool has to put up with your idiotic quadrant surfing? Did you know that’s consistent over every variation I’ve met? You never stop doing it. Not always to the same person, but it’s always the same childish, pining game.”  
“Shut up!” Karkat contorted his grimace into a snarl of glinting fangs.  
Godkat pulled away his layered shirts and sat up, hand on his chest and hips still rocking against his. “There’s no such thing as pan-quadrant romance. Even if you were with a human, _trolls_ aren’t capable of it. _Especially_ not you, you self-centered nooksnorter.”

“ _Fuck_ you!” Karkat lunged at him suddenly, surprising even himself with his own strength and conviction. His hands tightened around his throat and he knocked him on his back, their legs still tangled together. Godkat’s pained gasp was cut short by the tightening of his grip. “Maybe quadrants don’t matter anymore, have you ever thought of that? Our species is fucking dead! You know what happens if we never settle into a quadrant? Nothing! No drone’s gonna hunt me down for failing to fill a pail! It doesn’t fucking matter if I’m-“  
But he cut himself off. He wasn’t ready to admit this line of thought, not even to himself.

The disbelief on Godkat’s face was readable even in those empty eyes. He clawed at Karkat’s wrists, mouth agape; Karkat loosened his grip, but only a little. Just enough to let Godkat wheeze for a single stream of air.  
Godkat let go of his wrists, and fumbled to get off their pants, instead. First his own, and then Karkat’s, which tangled momentarily around his ankles before he managed to kick off his shoes. They lay naked and flush on the jagged stones of lopah, Karkat panting heavily, Godkat struggling for tiny gasps. He covered Godkat’s mouth with his own before finally letting go.

‘I never could have done that to anyone else,’ Karkat thought to himself, half horrified and half fascinated. Was this what a kismesissitude was supposed to feel like? He could feel himself unsheathing, and knew Godkat had to be as well. Layers of bone-hard cartilage were folding back and stiffening, and the hidden length of his bulge was revealed. To a human it would have looked anything but desirable; long and narrow, the same gradated orange as their horns and ending in a wicked point like a sting. Along its length were many sharp ridges and from its hollow tip glistened the first drops of murky red precum.

Karkat rolled his hips and brought it down to strike against Godkat’s with an electric sensation like chewing ice. Ordinarily, partners would spar to assert themselves before penetration. But it looked like Godkat had already folded to submission. Disappointing, he thought, because he didn’t hope to do this again.

Karkat slid sharply into Godkat’s nook, making him cry out like he’d been shot. Karkat echoed the sound and sunk his teeth into his shoulder. This was… so much more visceral than he’d imagined. In his novels, kismesis coupling was always described as a merging, two things becoming one. But as he plunged in deeper to his other self, it felt more like destruction.

The smell of it was making him sick. It was his _own_ scent, his _own_ pheromones wafting thick as clouds, his own and yet not from his body. This was so fucked up. This was beyond regular troll fucked up, this was _sick_ \- to hear his own voice screaming back at him with every rhythmic thrust. Godkat writhed beneath him, clutching at cold stone and finding no purchase. His moans were of mixed pleasure and pain, piercing and guttural.

Karkat fell against his chest, curling his back to deepen the motion. His knees were scraped raw from the grit of the rock. Only fitting, he thought. Fresh blood for the stones. Dirty blood for dirty acts, oh, this was disgusting. But it felt… It felt like…  
“Where’s- pail?” he stuttered out stupidly.  
“There _is_ no pail, seedsponge,” Godkat snorted, laughing elatedly. “I’m dead! The whole damn species is dead, just like you said! And you’ll be dead too, soon enough.”  
Karkat pulled out anyway. He grasped both their bulges tightly in one hand, and kept pumping his hips. Skin tore from his palms, adding slick blood to Godkat’s dampness and the trickles of fluid already leaking from their tips.

Godkat sunk his teeth into his neck, and that was all it took to push him over the edge. They came near simultaneously, spattering their bellies with viscous goo. Karkat still had the wherewithal to think, ‘what  a waste,’ but little else. Karkat crumpled on top of him, shaky and weak.

Instinct was telling him that he should flee, before his partner recovered enough to turn the tables on him. But all he wanted to do was lie here and hold him. He thought about Dave again; he’d never tell Dave about this. Dave did his best to be sensitive to it, but somehow Karkat didn’t think prefacing it with, ‘According to troll culture-‘ would make the sting any less.

Godkat wrapped his arms around him, and Karkat went tense, ready for some power play. But it never came. Godkat merely stroked his bare back in long, smooth circles. It was the action of a moirail, not a flushmate, and _definitely_ not a kismesis. And yet Karkat didn’t struggle or try to pull away.

“Don’t die for no reason,” Godkat spoke into his ear. “Live your life with no room for regret, and when you die… make it count.”

 

Karkat sat up. It was dark, but even in rudimentary light he could still make out the flat, colorless details of the room. For a second he didn’t know where he was- and then he saw Dave.  
“What’s wrong?” Dave mumbled, leaning up on his elbows like he’d tried to sit up but hadn’t quite made it. “What’s happening?”  
“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” Karkat said quickly.  
Dave hummed agreeably and reached for him in that hesitant, ‘can I?’ way he did, rolling over to be nearer to him.

“What the-“ This time Dave really did sit up, recoiling.  
“Um!” Karkat said, horrified, as the realization slowly dawned on him.  
Dave wiped at his leg, and then held a slimy hand before his face like he couldn’t quite comprehend it.  
“Holy fuck,” Dave said.  
“UM!” said Karkat.  
“Oh my god, did you-“ said Dave.  
“I have to go,” Karkat said, scrambling out of bed. “I just remembered- I have- an elsewhere to be. See  you tomorrow, Dave!”

Karkat pulled on his pants as he walked, and before Dave could get another word in edgewise, he bolted out the door.  
“Wait, Karkat-!” was all Dave could get in. He tried to call out something else, some reassurance that it was probably normal- normal for humans, anyway, he didn’t know about trolls- and that he wasn’t mad or grossed out, but all he could do was laugh.  
“Damn it, Karkat,” he managed finally, even though he was long out of earshot. “I can’t believe you’re making me clean this up on my own!”

To his surprise, his door creaked back open.

A troll peeked in, but it wasn’t Karkat.

“Clean what up?” Vriska said smugly.


End file.
